


Tales from the Cave

by BillieBunnie



Series: Siren Au [2]
Category: Eddsworld - All Media Types
Genre: A Song Siren has specific attitudes, A very interesting pack indeed, Alternative Siren Ending, Captive Captain, Deep Sea, Deep sea creatures, Different kinds of sirens, Gen, Hint of mind control/mental suggestion, Hinted Tom/Tord, Imprisonment, Isolation, Kraken Siren Edd, Lure Siren Matt, M/M, Major Character Injury, Mentions of Pau and Pat, Nothing major they just make it hard for the captain to keep his mind straight, Once again as in Tom is trying to eat/mock him, Pirate Captain Tord, Sea Shanties, Singer and Lure Sirens can manipulate the human mind p easy as seen in the original, Sneak peeks at the beginning of new chapters, Song Siren Tom, There is going to be a lot of interaction between all of them, Use of Patty instead of Pat/ryck, Use of Pau instead of Pau/l, With a human fool, alternative ending to Blood Red Deck, alternative universe, eventual bonding, more tags to be added as the story continues, siren au, this is not a 'good' alternative path, understand that the sirens are even less human than they appear, world building, yes - Freeform, you will see pack dynamics but not the ones youre used to
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-02
Updated: 2020-05-15
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:35:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22521859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BillieBunnie/pseuds/BillieBunnie
Summary: Tord had tasted death on his tongue. The captain shouldn't have survived, and yet here he was. Blinded, hurt. Trapped with his own horror and thoughts, just waiting in the dark.And he found himself wondering what better definition of hell there could be.
Series: Siren Au [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1746355
Comments: 6
Kudos: 33





	1. Black as Pitch

**Author's Note:**

> Heya! Originally I posted the first chapter way before it was done to get ahead of my writers block, and now that I've worked through it- The first chapter is now updated to it's full extent (which is much longer~)! And, because of how I set this up, I'm also going to be adding small sneak peeks at the next chapters before they come up.
> 
> Any questions can be directed to my blog (link at the bottom)!
> 
> Please please please look at this absolutely amazing fanart when you get the chance, she gives me so much inspiration! https://whyareyoureyesblack.tumblr.com/post/190801645369/i-rise-from-the-grave-to-post-this-to-celebrate-my
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

The captain had his own fair attempts at courting death. He was so well acquainted with it that it almost felt like an old, unwanted friend.

He knew the feel of being choked of air until his head spun, his vision spotted, just as well as he did the sight of a blade just inches from his gut. He could recall the burn of ropes and chains tight on his neck or around his wrists, weighing him down into water or wrenching him up until the toes of his boots couldn’t touch the floor. The smell of waterlogged air after nearly drowning, and the ache of his body being strained so badly in his attempts to live that the muscles could snap, these were things he had dealt with more than once. 

So it wasn’t all too foreign when he became conscious again, feeling death’s ache on his bones and very soul.

The closest thing he could compare it to would be perhaps when he had nearly succumbed to pneumonia as a child. He had been so young and frail then, that the time he couldn’t stand from his bed, and he had been force fed herbs, felt like a distorted nightmare. And yet it still felt more real than his waking now.

He was exhausted down to his bones, his senses were sluggish, his mind and memory very hesitant to recall much. He couldn’t carry a thought for what felt like more than a matter of seconds, even pain wasn’t able to come to the forefront of his mind in the state it was in. He slipped between being awake and simply not. He could’ve woken dozens of times, hundreds perhaps, for all he could tell- each moment of clarity felt like a blink. 

Only sounds and pain gave him the idea of waking. Discomfort gave him the only trustworthy impact of being alive still, as sounds were easier to imagine, but the captain clung to both in his dregs of delirium.

It was dark as pitch, not even outlines making themselves known to his useless eyes. There was no sun, no lanterns. No candle flickers or flashes of moonlight. He was either blind, or he was shrouded in pure dark. 

Still, he knew himself to be near water. A sound babbling abound convinced him; it was a noise that was ingrained in his mind, the sound of waves. Small, calm, almost tranquil. And the stench of the air, pungent with salt and seaweed rot, told him that it was ocean water. 

A dripping leak made noise without pattern, without rhythm, sometimes very close and sometimes very far, reverberating like suspended rain. It sounded very clipped in a way that could only be water on stone. 

A cave?

The first clear thought he managed after gods knew how long, was the realization of pain. Just how it stained his lungs, weighed on his chest, burned each of his ribs and, practically drowned his head in agony. Burning aches absolutely littered him head to toe, a result of the near breaking strain. Although unpleasant, it was familiar and grounding, making him finally feel in his body. 

The pain was familiar, no matter the form it was still alike any other time he had awoken straight from his death bed. Tord knew it like the back of the hand that he could no longer feel. 

And when Tord could realize the lack of feeling in his arm, panic flared and he jerked to search his sleeve that would surely be empty. The agony that came when his hand touched something that resembled a twisted branch gave him the comfort that his arm was not severed. It was just very hurt. The scream that Tord let out, however, startled him as it rebounded on walls he couldn’t see and echoed back to Tord as if dozens of him were locked in the dark. He almost didn’t recognize the broken bark, mainly because he couldn’t recall a time when his voice had sounded so shrill and pained. Thankfully, he wasn’t really in the right state of mind to get indignant; his body wouldn’t have been able to handle what his own pride would demand.

Braced on the cold floor once again, the captain’s labored breathing bounded back to him between idle patter rain. Tord struggled with his blindness and groggy, pain spiked brain, but his senses seemed determinedly dizzy. The only thing that Tord did know for sure was that his broken arm needed to be tended to. That piece of advice had saved him before, to the point that it was ingrained in his mind for survival- always treat injuries first lest pain or sickness claim you.

So he struggled, carefully, to reach towards his belts. The holsters were empty, but he ignored them in favor of unbuckling one of them, the thicker one that should hold his now missing sword. His own gasps and bitten curses rippled back to him in emptiness. Tord was trembling by the time he raised the leather to his mouth and bit a fold between his teeth. 

With his teeth clenched in the thick hide, Tord found himself more grounded than before. At least enough that he could push through the pain and explore the extent of the injury to his arm. Two breaks, he was sure, and the limb in itself was very loose from his shoulder. Nothing seemed cut off entirely, although he knew the warmth that clung to his fingers was likely blood. Not the worst he was expecting, but definitely not good. 

Even in his diluted and waterlogged state, Tord did know what he should do, but he also knew that fixing a dislocated shoulder hurt like hell.

He let out a few horrible groans, gathering the will. Then he moved very fast. He clenched his jaw on the leather, took a savage breath, grabbed hold of his injured arm at the elbow, and, in a swift, terrible jerk, snapped his arm back into socket. It connected in a horrible bolt of pain and a subdued noise, and he let out a muffled scream into his makeshift gag. Gasping and clutching his reconnected arm, Tord then dropped back onto his unhurt side and promptly passed out.

It could’ve been a minute or hours, perhaps even days for all the difference there was. Pitch dark both before and after he closed his eyes. The pain of his body hadn’t much changed, save for the agony in his arm now being more prominent. The most he managed was a brief struggle for his canteen that should be in one of his belts, but, when he found nothing, he allowed himself to drift off yet again. 

As such it went for a while, Tord not knowing if he was awake or even if he was alive for the amount of change he noticed. He was only able to tell with the crystalline rain and the pressure of his injuries that he should be awake. 

Once, he swore he woke at the sting of sudden light on his eyes, but he was too exhausted and hurt to do much more than fall back unconscious. Whatever it was wasn’t there when Tord next regained his senses. He decided it was a hallucination- pain and near death caused them easily.

The thing he noticed after some time was the distinct rasp in his throat- a sign of thirst. 

With his canteen gone, his best option was likely one of the cascades from above or the pool somewhere off to his left. The taunting water made soft breaks as if just to mock him, an unknown distance away in the blackness. He’d never admit that it was near impossible to convince himself to try searching with his body so hurt, for that would be admitting that he was at mercy to agony. And this was an argument that he lost with himself a few times. However, a man with destructive pride can only lose so much before he forces his way back. The clearer his mind became, the more frustrated his pride, until he dragged himself back into movement. 

The captain blindly searched his body with his less hurt arm, then the closest ground around him when the search of his body proved fruitless and painful. More than once, the quaking pain that came with moving too sharp had Tord even more disoriented to the point that he had to still and regain what little senses he had. 

Eventually, his stubbornness was rewarded. The very tips of his fingers brushed cold liquid, the surface breaking like a web, but he tasted his fingertips, and almost broke open the split in his lip when he grimaced. Sea water; death to drink. 

He searched a bit more. The floor was cool stone with loose smaller rocks littered about, as well as fish bones. He found sharp things that were thin and pricked his fingers in needle stings- but he didn’t know what they were. Just when he was about to give up on his search in favor of sleep yet again, he heard a scraping noise when his injured arm involuntarily twitched and dragged. He barely noticed it under his cringe. Something was under his broken limb, and it didn’t sound like a rock. The thought alone of moving his injured arm was enough to make him favor dehydration, but the taste in his mouth was hell and the ache in his lungs persistent. 

With great, minute motions and his own gasped curses flicking through the dark, Tord managed to lower his arm from the thing it stood on. He let out a pained laughed when he felt a familiar pouch of leather. Tord pulled the cork with his teeth, thanking gods in various names that it wasn’t empty. The water inside was cold and pure, washing the taste of sea and rust from his mouth.

When his dehydration was nothing more than an itch in the back of his throat, Tord felt his senses better returned and his mind easier cleared. More aware of his injuries and the darkness, but at least he was finally able to think a bit logically, in a straight line instead of in spots. 

And he remembered. And he choked. 

It all came back like the thunderous waves of the storm- the insane, impossible beasts that he had hunted, the ones that had, in turn, hunted him. The blue siren with a voice that sank into veins and eyes darker than the pitch around the captain now. The green one that glowed as lightning in the sea, luring the crew like moths to a flame. The kraken, huge, endless, awesome with a maw of black and arms as big as Tord’s ship itself. 

Now, Tord remembered how his crew had screamed, and the sea had raged as if the gods found Tord’s theft of a siren the most unforgivable sin- How the captain’s first mate was pinned and gutted, and his youngest hand hadn’t been angry, maybe not even surprised, before he was eaten alive- How Tord’s ship had splintered open, split apart like a wishbone, and the sirens had giggled and teased and dragged him into the dark open sea by his ankles- How the green one weighed him down, the kraken seized his arm, and the lovely, horrible blue siren had closed their lips together and drank his breath like wine… 

He had tasted death on his tongue. The captain shouldn’t have survived. 

Tord’s terror and confusion was only greeted with darkness, his pained body, and drips of water from somewhere high above. Alone. Alive. The shock of it was colder than the ground and his dampened clothes. More sickening that the breaks of his arm. 

Countless moments passed as he struggled to understand, to calm and come up with an explanation, but nothing made sense and he felt he had gone utterly mad. Nothing moved to agree or disagree with him. Tord felt every second weigh on him, and he was suddenly aware how truly blind and hurt he was. All he heard was the echo of water, the subdued patter of the ocean pool. The captain was trapped with his own horror and thoughts, just waiting. And he found himself wondering what better definition of Hell there could be.

Tord didn’t know if he’d prefer it to be his afterlife or not. But he decided it didn’t matter. He was a pirate, a captain, for gods’ sake. He couldn’t give into his fears, not while he still had energy. Afterlife or no, Tord was injured, his body cold and his surroundings unknown. He figured he could panic when he ran out of work to do. Until then-

Tord found the belt he had used before, replacing it back between his teeth. With his jaw set, he started feeling out his injuries again, this time with a clearer mind, and more steeled nerve. Motions too sharp or too sudden sent him into a shaking fit of pain, but helped him understand the extent. 

He found that his arm seemed to be the most severe, and knew that binding it would be all he could do. His ankle should also be braced because of a threatening twinge in near his knee. His body was bruised, possibly down to the bone, cut and was just utterly sore at best, but he would force his way through. 

Tord was still on edge, but he got used to the splashes and tittering drips that bounced in the dark, as well as the slight shuffle of smooth stones when he moved. He ground his teeth deep into the leather as he struggled to remove his remaining belts. Tord almost gave up when he realized he needed to sit up to remove his light coat, tempted to just cut the sleeve off around his arm, but he didn’t have a knife and the fabric was too thick to tear with his hands. Cursing echoed, voice hollow and skewed as it drifted off. 

Tord was sweating by the time he was free from his coat, keeping his injured arm as still as possible while moving the rest of his body in turn. Next was his vest, which was easier once the ties were pulled free. His long tunic was last, sticking to him and chilled. Instead of slipping it off, (oh gods, the thought alone made him sick) he freed his mouth and used his teeth, as well as one of his larger rings, to wear the cloth above his shoulder until it cut through. Once worn enough, Tord tore uneven strips of the fabric with his teeth while holding his other arm still. It felt like trying to chew through the limb, but relief flooded him when he felt around the tear and found the sleeve severed enough to slide off. That done, he caught his breath, panting.

Seconds, minutes, hours later- he heard something else. 

A light, listing sound. It made Tord’s ears ring. It sounded like a bell.

Feeling cold, the captain stared blankly ahead. He moved to tuck his injured arm close, holding it fast despite the pain. Fighting back the chattering of his teeth, Tord pulled his mouth into a nasty sneer. He didn’t dare move. It was impossible to tell where it was coming from, and he couldn’t see a blasted thing. There was no ground to gain if he had no idea where he lay. 

“… I know you’re there.” 

His voice was hoarse from lack of use and terribly sore. 

There was a splash, in front of him and then everywhere around as the sound filled the dark times over. The echo made him dizzy.

“Finally sane, are you?” 

That thing responded in a jovial tone, it’s deep, humming voice striking Tord to his core. Inhuman, beautiful. It hurt his ears when it bounced off the walls in the dark. Tord ignored the question, hearing the voice itself over and over again.

“Why am I alive, beast?!” Tord dug his nails into the ache of his shoulder, using the pain to focus. His eyes scavenged the dark, looking for any sign of the creature that killed his crew. He saw nothing. Even if he could, he was sure his vision would be unsteady. He practically spat, “You and your kin had me in the sea!”

There was that laughter again. The light pattering from before was louder, it reminded Tord that he was very close to the ocean pool, close enough to touch. Tord didn’t dare try to back away for fear of another pool being behind him.

“You didn’t escape, if that’s what you’re getting at- You live because we granted it.”

Tord swallowed, hoping that the thing also couldn’t see. But he knew it could. A creature that lives in the depths of the ocean likely had the vision of a bat or demon. Maybe it had the sight akin to a devil, and it could see Tord’s worst fears… The thought was immediately thrown out before he could linger on it. No need to make matters worse by believing a fish to possess the power of a god. Even after all this fish had done.

“Why?” The word was more of a breath than a voice when it slipped passed Tord’s lips. 

“Because you’re very stupid,” the siren jeered in a voice that shouldn’t be a sound, chuckling filling the room more and more, making Tord feel surrounded, “And stupid is entertaining. Entertainment is sparse in the sea, so my brothers agreed to keep you.”

Tord felt rage mingling with his fear. “’Keep me’- What the hell do you mean?” 

“I did tell you my brothers hate when I’m bored- they say boredom will kill me with how I am. They think you might provide a solution for this, for a time at least. Which I agree with, if you continue to do as you have. I’ve been quite enthralled to your crying for a time, and now that you’ve regained your mind I’m sure you’ll be even more amusing!” 

The thing laughed, the chime of it’s impossible voice bounding off walls and sinking into water. Making Tord want to dig a knife into the creature’s throat. If only he had a knife and if only he could see the damned thing.

“You’d give up a meal for something so trivial? What does entertainment matter to you, beast?” Tord snapped to the laughing dark. 

Splashes were so loud that Tord flinched. He felt water touch the knees of his trousers. If the beast was that close, Tord thought he might be able to see the eyes that were boring into him. But then he remembered that this siren didn’t have eyes.

“You don’t listen when others speak, do you? I told you before- humans aren’t my meal. Breath and blood of man is a treat from time to time, but I don’t need it often to survive,” The siren mocked. Bitter air wafted against Tord’s cheek. “Since you have something other than food to offer, my brothers and I won’t kill you. Don’t fret though, once you stop being entertaining, I will drag you back into the ocean and drink the life from you as you wish! Until then, pathetic captain, you shall be ours. It’s a position fitting of a fool, yeah?” 

Cold, wet fingers touched Tord’s chin, tilting his head just a notch down. To meet the pitch eyes that surely waited inches away. It’s skin itself resembled death, icy and serrated with scales.

Tord yanked back from the touch so roughly that he fell. He scrambled on the cold stone, rocks jabbing his sides, and his body catching on his stripped coat. The scattered pain that reverberated from the broken bones of his arm had him breathless and sprawled in black, trying to hold the injured limb still and ward off the waves of agony. He didn’t know how much ground he gained, if he could retreat very far at all. All that mattered what that the damned creature couldn’t touch him

He was well aware of the siren’s cackling. That bell laughter was deeper than before, as heavy as the waves of the sea. It was erratic, like a madman. So amused that it sounded near hysterics. 

Tord struggled to bare the pain waving through his body, as well as trying futilely to keep an eye on the creature he couldn’t see. The splashing was louder, more casual than it had been. And Tord understood suddenly that the siren had been keeping quiet until then, likely treading the water just in front of him. Taking glee in it’s stealth, and it’s game. The bastard. 

Between forced pants as his body demanded more air and his pride refused to sound so weak, Tord gritted out with as much ire as he could manage, “I am not going- to be your bloody pet-! I’d rather die-!” 

Tord’s hand was clumsy as he snatched up a few rocks digging into his hip, his throw sloppy and aimless as he hurled the stones with as much force he could muster into the dark. Splashes ricocheted. The laughter stopped.

If Tord were really a foolish man, he would’ve humored the idea that his actions had scared the siren off. A man closer to the edge of his sanity would’ve fantasized that he had even wounded the thing. He was neither. Even so, a chill still went through him when the thing spoke again. 

“It doesn’t matter what you’d rather, idiot! ~Your life is in our hands now, and until we choose for you to die, you will live to provide our entertainment.”

Tord couldn’t think of what else to say, his mind blank and grasping. The skin that the beast had touched felt slicked, as if it were burned by the cold.

“Go to hell, whore.” 

It cackled. The belling laugh tittered across water, against walls lost in the dark. Only to drift off into nothing, a heavy splash filling the air. Then only echoes remained. 

Tord waited for jeers or singing or even a sudden touch. But nothing came. 

It took the captain much longer than he would ever dare to admit before he managed to convince himself to move again. By the time he did, the icy feel of where the siren brushed had faded to the point he could almost forget where it had touched. Almost, and yet it still stood out among the salty sting and ache of the rest of his body. 

He could not convince himself no matter how much time he spent locked in place, that the beast wasn't still there. Silent in it's game once again, and within arms reach. That fear, wretched fear, kept him still for far too long. He could not withstand that. Death he was expecting, nearly wishing for, but he refused to be broken upon it's doorstep. The gnaw of his gut, the helplessness, the break of his arm, the thought of being stalked even as he stayed perfectly still holding his waterlogged breath; none of it could overshadow his pride. 

His limbs gave even more complaint than he expected due to being un-moving for so long, but he just gritted his jaw. He took use of his severed sleeve, and worked haltingly to tear the clothe into long uneven strips between his teeth and his working hand. He found himself constantly pausing or flinching, but he, painstakingly, kept working. There was no laughter at his hiss and curses of pain, his occasional threatening growl just daring the siren to speak if it truly returned; but the silence remained as constant around him as the stench of salt and seaweed. He braced his injured arm as tightly as he could bare without crying out, and once bound, he tucked it like a makeshift wing to his side. Sloppy and impossible to tell in the dark, but the binding would do well enough since the limb was stiffer, and less easy to jostle. He covered it further with his coat, which he dragged on his shoulder with difficulty. It was a small extra comfort, but helped more against the chill.

The captain had to retrace his retreat in order to find his canteen which he had forgone when the siren had touched him. Only the knowledge that he would likely lose his mind even quicker without water convinced him to retrieve it. If the reminder had come in the familiar voice of his first mate, then he blamed his guilty memory. 

He was even more impossibly on edge to press back the way he fled, but the taste of fear in his mouth to match the traces of blood was one Tord was determined to wash out. It took longer than he liked, and he nearly toppled into the water when his hand found an uneven lip of the cavern floor, but he found his canteen as well as his forgotten belts.

He had kept his body facing one way the entire time he moved, to make sure he would not get disoriented. He moved back from the ocean pool with more confidence than he had approached. A sip of water did little for his unease, but it helped his nerve and his throat. There was little else he could think to do but get as far away from the spot as possible. 

It was a grueling process; with his broken arm and lame leg. Tord had to move backwards from the water, with his good hand leading in hopes of not blindly dragging himself into another pool, or into the beast's arms. The motion hurt his leg, but the binding on his arm prevented any extra pain there for the time being. 

He found larger stones and less fish bones the more he retreated into the den. Perhaps getting further from the water, but only perhaps. No matter how much he moved, he still felt on the same ground he started. 

Still waiting for a sudden touch or noise as time bled by like a stuck pig. 

Tord was plagued with indiscernible phantasms both when he moved and when he rested his aching body. His eyes were worse than useless and showed the worst his mind offered in favor of actually warning him of anything. His mind was so desperate to fill the silence it would trick him. Louder splashes and shuffling that he could swear up and down were real had no proof, and he could barely tell which direction was up in the first place. And, occasionally, he did hear the voice of his first mate. At least he could almost immediately dismiss the voice as imagined or remembered, considering that he knew with the certainty of a hangman that Pau was dead. The splashes, however, became harder and harder to tell false, especially as his paranoia grew.

His hand at one point touched something heavier. Not rough like the sea rises or dead barnacles he had brushed before. It felt so much more real than his panicked hallucinations in the dark, and it was much bigger. It was wet to the touch and impossibly smooth, and it moved away before he could even flinch. The captain jerked back so hard it sent his broken limb into a small fit of convulsions. The agony was intense in a flash, his never changing black view gifting to pure white. He couldn't hear anything at all with the sensation flooding his remaining senses. For a long time, perhaps as long as the first, he stayed where he was, panting. Frozen once again by horror and preservation. 

He fully expected to suddenly be seized- by the grips of the siren, the grips of a devil, or by the grips of his own plagued mind. One of them without a doubt waited in the dark, and he didn't fool himself to think he could bluff his way into knowing which it was. But nothing came.

Haltingly, he checked with the slow brush of his boot. He was sure he hadn't moved much from his spot in his small thrash- yet he found absolutely nothing there at all. Only a small puddle of water. Whatever he had touched either had actually moved further into the dark, or it was never there at all. The most lucid of all of his delusions so far, he couldn't convince himself it was all in his head.

If his first mate could see him, then Tord could imagine the odd look he would be sized with. Pau was always a level headed man, a quick thinker. A roustabout all his life, similar to Tord, but done with much less fanfare. Though he had stood by Tord's side unwavering since Tord became Captain of the Red Deck, and a bit before, Pau had made it clear he silently judged Tord's actions. And, in private, Pau was the man Tord trusted most. 

In the dark of this cave, alone and trapped with nothing but the taste of salt and anxiety, the captain thought that Pau would say in a very lackluster voice that this could have been avoided if Tord knew when to stop for once in his life... Well, actually, Tord knew that he wouldn't. 

In fact he could practically hear Pau's voice just steps away, asking him that same question he had when they had been outnumbered and outgunned by a navy ship out West- 

"Why did you want to become a captain, anyway? For this? To be shot dead like a lowly dog?"

Tord could remember his own response, could taste it on his tongue with the same burn and wrath he had back then with just his crew of less than a hundred men. "I became your captain so that I would never be at mercy to another man. And neither will my blasted crew!"

Does that change now that you are at the mercy of everything but men?

Tord couldn’t think of a response to the question he had never been asked.

*

Tord didn't know how long he had slept; he couldn't even recall lying down in the first place. But he did know what woke him.

A light. 

It had loomed behind his eyelids before and after his senses sluggishly woke. Tord desperately searched the second he could pry his eyes open, forgetting whatever thought or dream or memory that lingered from his momentary rest. 

After nothing but pitch darkness, he beheld unobstructed bright light. It burned his already wet eyes, but he couldn't look away. He didn't dare. He feared if he blinked the glow would disappear; a mirage, a product of his mind already slipping away. The distance between him and the light weighed on him, taunted him. Too far. He needed to get closer. If he could get closer, he wouldn't be trapped in the darkness. He would be able to see. If he just had this green light he could survive, or at least he wouldn’t be so helpless.

By the time Tord was aware of it, he was already crawling forward. He approached the light on his knees- like a desperate man under the eyes of a God or a murderer. Seeking a decision. Seeking anything. He ignored how his ankle ached and rocks dug into him through his trousers. The captain’s eyes never leaving the light. It grew more and more large the closer he came. His eyes felt unfocused even though he was sure his vision was locked. He could almost make out something among it if his damned eyes would just work, as he finally was close enough to reach out with his hand. Just a breaths pace from touch.

Then something touched his bound leg, something heavy and wet. The pain snapped him out of his revere; making him flinch, and immediately look down from the light. There was an odd sharp clicking noise that echoed in the silence, in his oddly stinging ears, and his eyes focused enough without the direct burn of the light, enough to see a massive thing beside his leg. It curled out close enough that it could coil his entire waist. Like a rock or flotsam, but large like a creature all itself. Long, and slipping out from the ocean pool ahead of him- a headless serpent. A tentacle, just as wide around as his very head. 

Dread seized the captain. He jerked again- but not before he felt a harsh pricking at his cheek. It burned and stung like the slice of a blade and he felt heat trickle down his jaw. 

Tord flung himself backwards almost hard enough to crack his head on the stone. Another odd piercing click rang in his ears. Then another. 

Upon his back, his panic and pain cleared the spell of blinded stupidity from his eyes, and he saw that the light he had been enraptured by came from many sharp angles and speckles embedded in a slate pale form. The things' eyes mimicked the same light, flooded with the brilliant green color that had smothered the captain's better senses- locked on the captain above it's distended jaw filled with long overlapping teeth. Spike like barbs tipped with green lightning frilled from it's shoulders, it's arms; it's dark red hair still slicked from the ocean water in which it waded. Now only the length of Tord's legs away.

It was odd to suddenly wish for blindness after not having sight for so long- but with the vision of this monster, the captain would almost prefer the darkness instead.

Tord could blame so many things for his forgetfulness, and foolishness, but he could not find a single reason as to why he had forgotten about the singing siren's kin. Well, not forgotten. He hadn't forgot the horrific beasts the singer had brought to him and his crew in that storm- but he had tried to, in hopes that his punishment was to only be tormented by the singing siren, since it was the creature's amusement that had decided his fate. Even if such a sentence was still cruel, knowing that he was being kept for all three seemed far worse.

The glowing lure made another odd click deep in it's throat, and it's reached out angled hand curled in the air where the captain's face had been. Tipped in red from where the tips had cut the skin of Tord's cheek when Tord had flinched back. He swore it was smiling at him with that death trap of a mouth- just as it had done when it had been covered in the blood of his first mate. It seemed proud that it had lured him so close. Close enough to touch.

The captain couldn't scream, but the way his breathing picked up was as if he had been yelling for minutes. His body shook, the blood at his jaw hot- everything else freezing. His eyes were locked again with this- siren. Not out of enchantment, but out of pure disbelieving horror. It had almost had him crawling into the water. He had been on his bloody knees for it, nearly reached for it. Just as so many of his crew had done when the beast had flooded the waters around their ship with light.

Tord's stillness didn't last long. 

He struggled to back away without taking his eyes off the siren, near on scrambling. The lure just watched and shifted closer at the edge of the ocean pool, making that odd chirping noise. It almost faintly resembled a bird, but the sound rasped from it's throat like a gasp. 

He managed to get a small distance between himself and the lure and could almost find solace in it before he saw the tentacles. The massive tendrils so easily coiled among the stone floor like the forgotten chains of an imprisoned god. One slipped over the rocks after him, and he only realized how close it had followed when he felt it wrap around his foot, then ankle, then leg. He couldn't even be thankful that it was his unharmed limb when he felt the grip seize him, and, suddenly, it trawled him back towards the lure. Just like it had done before, when it had restrained his arm and held him under water for the blue siren. With such monstrous ease.

This time the captain screamed. "NO-!" 

He struggled against the grip but it was like fighting against the strength of a ship atop an overboard sailor. His hand caught on stone, and fish-bone, and jagged levels on the floor. He felt stings and raw tears at his back from rocks. He yelled and cursed as he was forced right back in front of the lure, and held there as the tentacle gripped hard enough he could feel it bruise. Nearly pulling him right off the edge into the water.

"RELEASE ME! GOD DAMN YOU! LEAVE ME!" His raw voice drew no mind from the lure. It only clicked as it loomed over him once he was close. Looking over him with inhuman gleaming eyes, it's clawed hands and massive trap of teeth feet away. A foot away. Less. 

The sight of this thing alone, with it's luminescent staring eyes and urchin spine teeth, was already sickening. Then it reached for him.

The captain struggled and snarled when the lure siren reached out again with it's sharp clawed hand. When he thrashed, the captain felt another tentacle grab his free arm. He failed to avoid it with his leg still coiled, and was grabbed around the elbow and up his bicep with a grip that was just short of crushing. Tord could only squirm and jerk against the holds as the lure's clawed hand touched his face once again. It was not only cold, but also sharp in every way. Even if it didn't instantly claw at him, or grasp him even, just the bare touch stung with salt and chill and threat of fine cutting scales. It ran it's angled fingers over the slices on his cheek that they had made, almost curiously. Or mocking. 

The lure clicked again, it's large tooth overlapped mouth so close Tord could just imagine that all it needed to do was open it's jaw, and it could easily take off his head with one bite. 

In the back of the captain's mind, he wondered if this is what his first mate had seen when he had been gutted by the very beast touching Tord's cheek. Had he seen this monster of barbs and countless fangs, or had Pau still been enraptured by the glows of the lure siren's spell when the thing had torn into his belly there in the storm? Would being enthralled by the inhuman glow ease the pain in the slightest? 

The captain thought that he would soon find the answer himself.

The barbed beast touched his bloody cheek a few more times. Then it touched Tord's chin. Then other cheek, smearing the blood it had drawn and coated over its' scaled hand. Making Tord curse and thrash again, earning a new slice on his other cheek.

"STOP- What-!" Tord cut off his next shouts when the lure's gutting nails passed against his parted lips, threatening to search inside if he gave the thing a chance. Not wanting to taste more of his own blood or have the beast shred his tongue, the captain forced his mouth shut. The lure touched his lips a bit more with it's bloody fingers before it seemed to lose interest and went back to touching his cheeks again. 

Every time the captain tried to yank his head back, he could feel more digs into his flesh. After he received twice more cuts for his effort, the captain forced himself to still with panic thrumming through every pain in his body. He didn't get cut further, but his cheek and jaw stung with the slices already there. He could so easily feel where the thing’s hand cupped his cheek, tracing it’s claws and painting his skin with the captain’s own blood.

Suddenly, the creature stopped, and turned it's head. Looking back. 

Then looking up. 

Tord could feel himself shake under the holds. His mind screamed of the only thing this creature could be seeking when looking up; The very thing that held his arm and leg with large coiling limbs- the Kraken. 

Tord followed the look but couldn't see anything passed the several feet that the lure's glow allowed. He was almost grateful for the lack of sight. 

For a heavy moment, there was just blackness and silence under Tord's muffled gasps. There was no other sounds or anything that Tord could notice with his limited vision, still trapped on the lure. Even so, the lure seemed to hear or see something that the captain could not, because it clicked in it’s throat and pulled it's bloody claw back. It turned it's glowing stare on Tord for a moment before it slipped effortlessly back in the water, sinking down from sight without a blink. It's light went with it, flooding the water, then fading more and more from sight until once again there was only darkness.

The grip on Tord's arm tugged a bit before it slowly- let go. The heavy tendril slipped off of his arm. It left a pressing ache and the sleeve of his coat wet with sea water. Though the massive limb was slow to move, Tord was not. The captain wretched his arm back and away from where it had been held, and tried to do the same with his leg, but the tentacle grip there didn't budge. No matter how much he yanked and struggled, the coil wouldn't let him gain any slack. It just held him, keeping him trapped right there at the edge of the pool. With no hope of breaking free unless he was able to saw his remaining unharmed leg off.

Tord could feel the drying blood, his own blood, all over his jaw and lips where the lure had ran it's hand- and he found himself desperately scrubbing his face with his arm. Trying to get the blood and the feeling of the beast's sharp fingers from his skin, as he continued to pull against the remaining hold on his leg to no avail. 

All too quickly his helplessness and horror, knowing just what was keeping him still, along with his clattering mind all came to a build. 

Almost curled over onto his side, leg trapped by this massive squeezing limb, good arm braced on the ground in a hopeless attempted drag to get himself up, the captain gasped and each exhale came out in a loud. wrathful, shaking scream. Louder and louder, each roar held every last shred of threat and strength Tord had. The screams tore from his throat and chest, his very soul. Getting more and more aimless and broken as his voice weakened before his breath. An enraged, deranged war cry that only comes near the end of a losing slaughtering battle.

The captain would never admit a few things even upon his death bed. He'd never admit that he missed his mother who had sold him off on a never returning ship when he was six. He'd never admit that the first time he had killed a man, it hadn't been full of glory. And he would never admit that his enraged yells in that blacked out seemingly endless cave had ended in sobs by the end of it. All these moments resulted in him weeping, but, be it coincidence or luck, they were also witnessed by no men that could dare reveal them. And for the last, the only ones who heard his break weren't exactly men at all.

His bawling didn't last long, and was cut off when Tord suddenly got hit with something heavy on his hurt shoulder. 

The pain cut off his breath and had him falling onto his good arm in a curl, the instinctive pull of his leg managing to drag his body closer to the tentacle and pool. It took a moment for Tord to catch his breath and his senses again- and when he did he also managed to take notice of a few things. 

The lure's light had returned sometime during his break. It’s light inhumanly green and bright as it spread over the ground around him with the lure beast itself right by his trapped leg. It was making an odd rasping series of chirps. Tord winced from the light, and maybe the eerie sound, but didn't look back to the returned siren so he wouldn’t blind or upset himself further. 

Then his barely recovering vision caught sight of something in the lightning glow- able to see what must have hit him. 

A few feet from his face among smaller rocks and the background of black was a large fish that was flopping weakly with long sharp looking fins. Even in the green lighting, Tord could make out the look of the fish. It looked to be a cod- the very type of fish his crew would drag from the sea in nets to make dinner. It was missing it's tail, seemingly torn off, or likely bitten off, and was bleeding and suffocating on the rock floor beside the captain as he stared. The second his shock wore off, it was replaced with a ravenous gnaw- his first sight of a meal in he didn't know how long. The captain almost was already reaching for the dying fish when a thought surfaced, the realization that this fish must have been thrown at him by the siren.

The hold on his leg moved, but didn't loosen as he risked a look at the glowing siren. It was just as unnerving and alarming as the first sight, perched at the very edge of the ocean pool. It's clawed hands on the floor, one nearly touching his still constrained leg. Uncaring of the massive tentacle that slipped just by it's side. Those glowing green eyes on the captain, it's sharp urchin like barbs standing out like gleaming needles from it's shoulders and back. It stopped it's chirping when Tord looked at it, and just stared. It also seemed to be almost swaying a little in place. Like it couldn’t stay still.

Tord stared at the beast for a long minute, confused and on edge. His eyes stinging and wet. He didn't know what he was waiting for. Another attempt to touch him? An explanation? The closest he could get was the very faint gloss of fish blood on the creature's long teeth- showing that the lure was indeed the thing that bitten off the tail of the fish it had thrown at him. No other answer came. 

When the lure didn't do anything more, Tord ended up having to look away just as he started to feel himself getting lost in the impossible color of the siren's glow. He knew the aurora meant death, this monster, and yet his weak mind still clung to it- seemingly more afraid of the darkness than the gutting man eater that gave his eyes sight. 

Tord looked back at the thrown fish, and he saw that the cod had given into its' death- lying almost entirely still just barely out of reach of his hand. He would just need to shift a little more and he would be able to catch hold of it’s fin, if he could get even just an inch further with the kraken's hold on his ankle.

For a moment more, Tord's mind dragged. So painfully unsure, but his hunger outweighed the anxiety. 

In the moment, he didn't care if the lure had hit him with the fish as a mockery or if it was gaining amusement from his small struggle and desperation. 

He almost didn't care about the grip still on his leg, from ankle to thigh, keeping him from moving far. If he was less starved, he might have noted that the kraken seemed to relax it's pull after a second of the captain making a grab for the dead fish, but as it was, he was too focused on dragging the cod to him. The tentacle stayed coiled around his leg still, but made no moves to pull him. Just holding him close to the pool and the lure as the captain struggled to sit up with the awkward brace of his ankle.

He knew the two creatures of the sea watched him in the lightning glow, but the captain just kept his eyes on the fish as he worked with clumsy skill to find his belt. With a rough impatience, Tord used the buckle on the belt to tear off the scales of the fish and get to the chunked bleeding meat underneath. He did hear the clicks from the lure siren again, but with the meal in sight, Tord found himself far too busy tearing and picking the pieced meat from the cod. The taste was overwhelmingly salty, of course, and he felt the grit of sand under the powerful taste of the fish, as well as tasted his own blood, but, by all the Gods, it was glorious. He ate like a starved tramp, throwing meat into his mouth and spitting out any scales or thin bones he missed with his messy hand. Nearly biting himself in his hurry to fill the long ingrained pangs of his belly. It was a struggle to get as much meat off the fish as possible with only one arm and a belt buckle, but a hungry man will do many things for a meal.

The grip of the kraken still holding his leg, nor the threat of the lure siren so close was enough to slow the captain in his feast- but the hum of a deep voice was enough to stall him.

"So, my kin finally decided to feed you, poor hungry boy~?" The voice made him shiver and freeze with a small chunk of fish just before his mouth, instantly looking up. 

The lure was there with it's light; the kraken's tentacle still coiled at Tord's leg. 

And the singer siren had also appeared. The green light made it seem even less human in appearance, but no less beautiful. It’s blue lips curled coyly. It's arms were on the edge of the pool, leaning against them. Only a bit away from the lure, and only a bit more away from Tord. Watching him and showing those sharp teeth in a smile pretty and sharp, like the sight of a polished blade.

The captain thought of many insults, many things to say and do. But he had no energy for any of them, hardly even the gull, so instead he focused back on his meal. Deciding that if he was to be tormented, he would at least eat as much as he could. 

The blue siren laughed in response, it humming in that too perfect bell.

"We starved you too much to speak now?" The siren teased, and the lure beside it made another odd click. Making the blue one look almost curiously and it hummed. "We don't know how long a human can go without a meal- it shouldn't be so soon though."

To say Tord ignored the beasts would be a lie, for he could not ignore the predators that waded feet before him. However, he tried to focus more on filling his belly rather than the beasts that held him captive, and managed to keep eating- although dread lingered in his stomach along with the raw fish.

"We didn't feel the need to hunt for you since you have been moving and acting much more aware than you were. We thought a pirate could at least feed himself! If we had known you would just hide in the rocks and talk to yourself, we would have thrown fish at you ages ago!"

The lure beside the singer chittered, which was such an odd noise to hear above water. It should almost naturally be smothered under the weight of the ocean. It made the captain's skin crawl. When the singing siren joined in with its' own belling giggles, Tord realized that the lure was laughing, or at least ridiculing, since Tord wasn't sure if he could call that noise laughter. 

Tord almost snapped, almost yelled as his indignation out weighed his fear with these things jeering him right to his face, when he could finally see them- but he was also very aware of the hard grip still on his leg. Still holding him trapped. If he at least had the option to back away from the water, and if maybe his earlier break didn't leave him so hollow, then perhaps he would find the will to snarl. 

When he only continued to eat, the glowing siren made that odd rasping clicking noise. And, unnervingly enough, the singer siren responded in kind. Though it's click was somewhat prettier than the lure's, Tord could tell it was mimicking. Like a parrot, almost. They were talking. 

Suddenly the singer looked at the captain with those darker than pitch eyes.. As inhuman as a shark's blank bottomless stare, with a smile to match. A purr and a mock to it's smooth deep voice, "Eat, eat~! You are so desperate for a meal, then eat! It would be so boring if you were to die from starving when we have had such little time to get to know."

With that the singer pushed off the edge of the stones and back into the water, it's large tail making splashes as it so gracefully sank back. Not quite out of sight, it lingered close and turned it's gaze upon it's glowing kin. Making an almost pretty, almost nice sounding chirp as it waded onto it's back and nearly out of the green light the lure offered. 

The lure in question looked back on Tord with those milky eyes, just for a moment, before it also suddenly dropped off the edge of the ocean pool with thunderous plashes. Following it's prettier kin with eerie calmness. Not on it's back like the singer, but upon it's belly with it's distended jaw half under water. It’s barbed back standing out as a warning like a shark’s fin. 

The singer seemed very pleased as the lure swam closer, lighting up it's idle float further into the pool. Offering more chirps, to compare with the lures' rasping clicks. As the captain watched, suspicious and enthralled by their odd behavior- were they just swimming? teasing? they spoke, were they just speaking?- the lure suddenly lunged at the lounging singer.

The barbed beast flung itself at the singer siren, claws out and sharp ends flared. Instead of shrieking or seeming alarmed, the singer instead just laughed as it playfully dove away in a graceful dive, making the lure miss it. A long flick and slap of the singer's fanned blue tail caught the green glow of it's kin as it swam off deeper into the cave, leading into the dark- and the chirping lure pursued, taking it's light with it. The two sirens chased each other without care or hesitation, only lit up by the lure's luminescent green, showing more water and rocks the further they went. 

Leaving the captain to eat his meal in the dark.

The lantern glow surrounded the two sirens as they swam, and dove, and lunged after each other, the echo of their wild splashes and inhuman speech rang all around the captain. They went deep off in the cave, revealing that it indeed was huge. Bigger than the captain could have guessed in the dark- not even able to see a ceiling or wall or a peek of the stalactites that surely were posed high above. It just seemed that the water and the ground upon the captain lay were suspended in the pitch like the constant idle rain. 

It made the captain feel as if he were trapped at the end of a sunken dock, the entirety of the ocean spread out past any horizon, but without any matching endless sky. Without anything; without sun, without clouds, without wind. Just dead wide ocean that spread so far he couldn't tell if there was another shore or anything else. Simply endless cold hell with demons that played in the boundless dark, where the kraken surely waited just under the surface. Or even just beside Tord in the shadow of the massive cavern. 

Their eerie laughter lingered even when they disappeared under water for long moments.

Tord didn't know how long he had been enthralled watching them- his bewilderment and unease made it impossible to look away- but he came back to his task at hand when he felt an odd shake on his leg. It almost felt like a shiver. Deeper however, and, for some reason, the hair on the back of Tord's neck stood on end. It took him longer than he would admit to realize that it had come from the tentacle curled around his leg- which brought him back to the fact that while the lure and singer seemed distracted- the kraken’s grip was indomitable.

Despite the sick curl in his stomach at the reminder of his helplessness, Tord knew he should finish eating. Even with the fickle light of the lure that followed to-and-fro of the creatures' play, the captain could work with distant glow and near pitch to finish tearing the scales from his meal. The work was difficult, but reward enough to fill his belly. 

The entire time as he ate, the singer and lure swam far and closer. Their disruptive splashes and odd inhuman talk flooded the captain's mind- not consuming him, but simply because nothing else remained in the silence. 

Despite himself, Tord did find it slightly more comfortable than before. It was similar to being told that your rum had been poisoned after a roulette game of life and death- the discovery still meant death, but at least it wasn’t a question. At least with their rebounding chatter, he knew that the beasts were actually there, and it wasn't just his mind losing it's bloodied slippery hold. 

Tord stripped and picked the fish as bare as he could manage with his belt buckle and his stinging fingertips, and, once he was done, he thought of throwing the bones at the lure and singer. If his first mate was there, he knew he would be cuffed on the back of his head for such a foolish thought. The rest of his crew, loyal as any men and twice as foolish, would have cheered him on. It almost made him laugh to think about.

He washed the salt of the fish and the salt of his soul with a taste of his water. A full belly gave the body solace. Minor when compared to the salted stings and raging aches of his battered body, compared to his constant curdled nerves and trapped leg- but while the captain was many things, he wasn't ungrateful. At least, he never was as a lad, and he wouldn't now, as a forsaken man. 

The captain was suddenly drenched in an icy shock of water. It struck his face and front, making him jump and jerk against the tentacle keeping him stuck. The pains of his body woke in burns from the salt on the sores, and the shivering cold. He sputtered and tensed.

The space before him was dark. The lure had at some point seemingly lost interest in the game with the singer, and was further back in the water, laying out in the pool. Atop something dark, happy as a seal upon a rock, though it was likely not a rock on which it perched. Glowing eyes on the captain. It's glow surrounded it and nothing else in the cave, thus why Tord never noticed that the singer had returned closer. Close enough to splash him for the soul purpose of cackling at his gag. He wouldn't have even known the singer had been the thing to slap water in his face if not for the nearly maniac laughter that followed immediately after, right in front of him. 

"You take so long to eat! Is it because you starved, or are all men truly this boring?" The thing mocked loudly. Making it's glowing kin ring that odd chirping sound. Laughing at him yet again.

"Leave me be, beast!" Tord roared, his voice so hoarse from his earlier bellows that his voice did crack and he almost purposely bit the healed split of his lip open. He earned another splash for his effort, flooding all of his senses with salt and cold. He snarled and spat, and only seemed to make the sirens laugh more. He thought of lashing out, but the tentacle around his leg kept him from doing anything too rash. It would be far too easy for the kraken to drag him in. 

So the captain stewed in the mockery and his itching pride and stinging skin, flicking water from his salted cuts as he grit his jaw. Perhaps the creature had expected, or even wanted, Tord to lash out at him far worse than just his bark- and it was disappointed by his restraint, because for a long heavy moment it said nothing once it's laughter had drifted from the echo. 

"If you're going to be so boring, little one," the deep voice nearly cooed, just as suddenly as the splashes of water, sounding so pretty just before Tord, "Shall I soothe you to rest~? It's more for my kin than you- they get too distracted with your crying to rest."

Tord felt himself bristle, and he snarled, "No!"

But the only response was that deep bell of a laugh, and the chirping of the lure. Tord opened his mouth to argue further, to spew insults and threats that wouldn't even willingly come to mind, but he was once again harshly splashed, nearly knocked back by the water.

The singer swam from Tord, that much he knew because he could hear the breaks of the water, it's tail must have been what sent such a wave of brine over him. But he couldn't be sure until he suddenly heard it's humming, coming from somewhere further off in the cave, but not close enough to the lure to reveal itself. The sound listed.

The lure seemed more than content where it lied, far behind the darkness where the singer lurked, much higher up from the ocean pool than it had been when Tord last looked. The thing it had been laying upon so casually had pushed above water, and exposed what it was- one of the kraken's much larger tentacles. The lure was perched on it so casually, so calmly. Laying a bit like a dog on it's belly, arms tucked beside it, head curled down. Glowing eyes staring at Tord above the sharp trap of it's mouth. Making a long series of chirps and clicks, glowing so brightly in the dark. It almost seemed to be- pleased.

Tord couldn't find where the singer had gone in the dark that premeditated everywhere else, but he could hear it's soothing slow hum. Especially when it raised suddenly into an actual song. Wordless yet again, as it had been when singing to his crew, robbing them of their senses. But it sounded different somehow- softer perhaps. Still pretty and warm, smooth as honey atop a cup of tea. Too smooth. Too calm. Within the first few wordless notes, the captain could feel it sink into his mind, his body. Heavy like the ocean deep. 

Tord quickly tried to bring his hand up to cup his ear and muffle the siren's song- but one of his arms was still bound. 

No matter how much he tensed and dug his teeth into his lip, the humming sank into his ears. Into his shoulders and body- soothing him despite every effort he tried to ignore it. He even tried to shout over it, but already his mind and body were infected by the coaxing lullaby. Making him wonder why he was trying to fight this- whatever it was. It was like resisting the plunge into a heated bath when your body is only used to the chill of the sea. And he was cold.

It became hard to keep his eyes open, and he caught sight of the lure still watching him from across the water. Almost closed milky eyes. Contented just as the singer surely was, to watch the captain lose yet another battle of wills.

And it was his will- or perhaps just his body- that was too weak to withstand the lull. Betraying him, and he was only faintly aware of going flat on his back. Head lolling as he struggled to keep his senses. 

Then he wasn't aware in the slightest when he fell asleep, still trapped, still hurt, to the siren's song that echoed above the drips of the cave.


	2. Gaslight Purple

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sneak Peek at the second chapter. Will edit once finished!

A man at the edge of a plank has two choices- be forced off, or step off. 

Time moved with the reluctance of a man forced on the plank. Standing on a board barely wide enough for both feet bound together at the heel, the cold unforgiving sea frothing like a ravenous dog far beneath the wavering balance. A jeering equally blood thirsty crew offering only their blades at the end of the plank that would be the ship. Time was the man at the edge, hesitating- knowing that death waits on either side of the board. The air in the cave felt so similar. Smothered with terror and a deadmans' pride. Time all rasped onto each breath like the last slip of the boot.

Tord was a man who killed, who freed, who stole, who fought. He was a man that stood on a plank, knowing full well he was seconds away from willingly plunging into the waters below in favor of be teased off.

**Author's Note:**

> hmu @ https://ewdenimjeans.tumblr.com/


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